


Staying Power

by Sigmund



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: AU: Modern Day, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6378955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the modern day with d'Artagnan being a teen and finding Treville after his father has died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I answered my own prompt on Eleudun's site: elenduen.dreamwidth.org . I wont qualify as a great work, but just something I wanted to write and share. Thank you for the opportunity. Thank you to those who have given me kudos on my other stories-- so great to know people are reading. 
> 
> For this story-- It is set in the modern day with d'Artagnan being a teen and finding Treville after his father has died.

Day 1

Jean had barely been home over the last few months- using the place to sleep when he wasn’t at the office and not caring if the house needed attention. Starting a new unit, nicknamed, the Musketeers was hard, yet rewarding work. They were a high level unit within Homeland Security that combining all eight departments and answering only to the Secretary. Treville was still forming the team, but it was filling with promising young men and women.

The mail had collected so much that he placed it in a trash bag with the thought to bring it to his office to rifle through as he had time. As usual he was rushing out the door for another meeting with the trash bag of mail in his hand, travel mug of coffee in another. Being distracted, he tripped over the landing as he exited- trash bag dropping and coffee spilling out violently as Jean stumbled forward barely avoiding slamming into the walkway. “What the-“

“I’m so sorry. I fell asleep and . . .” said the olive skinned teenager as he stood up, dusted off his side then went to fetch the trash bag.

“Fell asleep? Outside my door? Why? Who are you? This is private property.” Treville was angry at this awkward start to his day. 

The teen put his hands up. “I’m Charles d’Artagnan. My dad is, was, Alexandre D’Artagnan. He said if I ever was in trouble that I should come to you.” The teen took a breath. “I need help.”

Treville wiped a hand down his face. He wanted to send this kid away, but he recognized the name. “Do you have some ID?”

Charles nodded. “Yeah, yeah, one second.” He rifled through his backpack coming up with a passport.  

Once Jean determined Charles seemed to be telling the truth of his identity, he tried to reign in his annoyance level. “Where is your father?”

The teen brushed his hair off his face, his hand back in the bag to retrieve a used large envelope he gave to Treville. “He’s gone, and it’s my fault.”

Jean frowned as he opened the envelope and went through the clippings, though the first one was enough. Alexandre d’Artagnan, his boyhood friend was dead, murdered in fact.

He read a little further. Alex had left behind a 17 year old son, Charles.  “Let’s go inside.” Treville gestured to the door. “How did you find me?”

The boy curved in on himself. “Dad kept up with your career, said he knew you back in the day. He thought you were cool since -” D’Artagnan bit his lip first. “I’m part of the Undergraduate Scholar Program with the CIA, and I think because of that my dad got killed.”

“Sit down.” Treville guided the teen to the kitchen. The boy collapsed into one of the bar stools. “Did you tell anyone you’re here?”

“Who is there to tell?”

“Your family?” Jean started. “The CIA? Friends?”

The boy shook his head.   “I thought because of your work- I just need some help in finding the person who did this. Figure this out. I don’t know what I did.”

Treville brought the young man a bottle of water. “I don’t know how much I can help. I work for Homeland Security, have responsibilities. . .”  Jean wasn’t in the position to give any attention to anything but his job.

“Yeah, okay. I just thought. . .I’ll figure this out on my own. Thanks.” Charles placed the cap back on the bottle to pack it up.

Treville would never know why he asked as being impetuous went against his nature.  In a moment he was thinking of his boyhood with Alexandre. “Do you need a place to stay?”

“Are you going to call Social Services? I’m not going with them. My dad wouldn’t want that. I have eleven months before I turn 18.” The teen was eyeing the door.

“I’m saying for a couple of nights.”  Although Jean should be thinking about contacting Social Services. “Come with me. I have a meeting, but you can wait in my office and I will see what I can do about getting Lupiac to send me what they have so far.”

D’Artagnan seemed to think about the situation. “Thanks. That would be good.”

On the drive, Treville asked the teen about what he knew about the night his father was killed. There was not a lot of information as Charles had been knocked unconscious. Still, a few phone calls may gain them some insight.  A glance at his watch told him he had just a few minutes to make the meeting with Louis on time.

“My office is up the stairs. If anyone asks, you’re my nephew.”

Charles nodded, hitched his backpack on one shoulder and climbed the stairs.

* * *

 

“Porthos, is there a problem?”  Treville asked as he noticed that the large man was lingering around him as he looked at Etienne’s screen.

“No, Sir.” Porthos remained in place looming over Jean. “Were you taking your nephew to lunch?”

“My nephew?” He had forgotten about Charles. “Oh, yes, lunch right.”

“He ate a few donuts. It was kind of impressive.”

“Growing boy. Have you and Aramis spoken about the case?” Treville decided to divert the agent.

“Yeah. We’ll report later on it.” Porthos took a step away, then turned his head.  “Aramis gave the kid the wifi password.”

As Treville went up the stairs he mulled over what he was going to do with Charles.  The boy was hunched over his phone. “The cafeteria is in the basement if you want to get something to eat while I see what I can find out about your father.”

“I’ll bring you something,” Charles said as he scampered out of the office before Treville could tell him that he wasn’t hungry.

Twenty minutes passed with the teen returning with a tray of food.  “I got you a chicken sandwich.”

Jean accepted the sandwich, noticing the variety of food on the teen’s tray. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I do eat. I have money.” Charles stopped opening a packet of ketchup.

What was he doing with a teen that witnessed a murder, somehow worked for the CIA, and should be in state custody? “How about if I talk to Social Services. I’ll make sure you get a good placement.”

“Thanks for lunch and the help, but I should get going.” The apple was plucked from the tray into the hoodie pocket, backpack in his hand as he raced out only to collide with Treville’s next appointment who righted the teen by holding him by his upper arms.

Treville stood up. “Oliver de la Fere?”

“Athos, Sir. “

“My nephew, Charles.  Go on in.” Treville gripped the teen’s arm to escort him downstairs. “In a low voice, “We will talk about this. I won’t just abandon you.” Treville passed the boy to Aramis and Porthos.  “Would you two mind watching him. I’m sure he can help you with something not classified.”

* * *

 

Jean hired Athos. The meeting was a mere formality as he did his own research and sought out potential agents before having them come in for a meeting.

Charles knocked on the door and Treville waved him in.

“How about I stay with you until we find who killed my dad?” The boy was pleading.  “I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself and not crimp your style.”

“What about school?” Treville was surprising himself by considering the proposition.

“I graduated early, been taking online college courses. I’m willing to work. I’ll get a job.”

Treville really had no other retort. He was hardly at home, the teen would have be taking care of himself.  “This will be very temporary and against my better judgment.”

But, Charles was already nodding.  “My friends call me d’Artagnan.”

“I have some calls into the Lupiac police department, but they are going to email copies of what they have.  You also have to tell me what you were working on with the CIA that makes you believe that it could put you at risk.”  Jean and d’Artagnan worked together for a few hours and made contact with a friend of Jean’s that he trusted at the CIA to find out if he could quietly investigate. 

They went home together with Jean pointing out the spare bedroom.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**14 days later**

Treville opened the refrigerator and found some food in it, which was unusual as normally there was expired milk waiting for him.

He knocked on the door to d’Artagnan’s room. “Where did the groceries come from?”

The room did not have much but some pictures on the wall as the teen tried to piece together what happened to his father. Charles was laying on the bed with ear buds on. “There is a small market down the street. I got a job there making deliveries and bought some stuff.”

Jean was so unaccustomed to living with another person that he forgot there were needs to meet. “You don’t have to do that.  I’ll leave you some money in the morning on the kitchen table every week or just ask.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

**2 months later**

D’Artagnan opened the door slightly and saw that it was Athos, who he had met at Treville’s office the first day. “He didn’t mention anyone would be coming over.”

“It was last minute,” Athos confirmed waiting to be allowed in the house.

The teen decided to let the agent enter. “Do you want some water or something?”

“Nothing.” Athos stood in the hallway.

“Okay.” D’Artagnan pointed to the couch as a waiting room, but stepped to the side. “I was making something to eat in the kitchen. . .” The young man let the rest of the question drop off, but Athos picked up on the silence and followed him.

The teen was making some pasta. He boiled all of it and went to finish the sauce, adding more tomatoes to stretch it. 

“Thank you. Where did you learn to cook?” Athos asked as he drank from the glass of water.

D’Artagnan shrugged. “After my mom died, I figured I needed to help my dad. It’s not hard.”

“Well, it’s appreciated.” Athos gave a slight nod.  “I tend to eat take-out or whatever Aramis and Porthos are eating.” 

They both turned at the sound of a key in the door. Treville seemed surprised to find them in the kitchen.  “Charles, we need to talk about something private. Did you need something?”

Usually, d’Artagnan would be upstairs in his room, unless he needed something or wanted to talk about a clue in his father’s case. “I wanted to talk for a minute, but it can wait.” He waved to Athos as he shuffled to the stairs.

“Wait, what was it?” Jean called after him as he made it to the first step.

It was such an uncomfortable conversation. He’d be able to get his own credit card soon enough. “I want to take some classes, but my dad used to pay, so I just need a loan until I can take care of it.”

Treville frowned. “Will a credit card work? Here you go.” He pulled out his wallet and placed the Visa in d’Artagnan’s hand. “Slip it under my door when you’re done.”

“I’ll pay you back.” D’Artagnan wanted the other man to understand that this was a temporary situation since Jean was not his dad and could never replace him.

Jean nodded and returned to his guest.

* * *

 

**6 months later**

It was a routine Treville got used to as they stayed out of each other’s way, but lived in the same house.  D’Artagnan kept to his room or the kitchen and was usually found on his laptop.  Jean appreciated the food and clean laundry.

Treville knew he should make a point to talk more, but he was busy at work and exhausted when he returned home. He had a meeting tomorrow, and would be out of state until the evening.

The messages did not get to him until he after the meeting was completed and the secretary was waiting for him.  His nephew had been injured in a car accident. 

When he called Athos, Aramis and Porthos were already at the hospital assuring him that d’Artagnan would be fine.

“Constance came to find you,” Athos said as if it explained everything.

Jean had no idea who had come to tell him about the accident. “Constance?”

There was a long pause before Porthos answered, “D’Artagnan works for her and her husband Jack. They own the grocery store.”

Treville knew d’Artagnan was working at a small grocery store, but Charles seemed mature and never gave him anything to worry over. Though, in truth Jean did not take enough interest in the teen.

“A car swerved into him,” Aramis added. “A witness said it seemed as if the car was aiming for him.”

Jean rubbed a hand down his face willing the driver to go faster.  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

 

D’Artagnan hurt. There was a bone deep soreness that was forcing him awake even though he wanted to sleep. He tried to move but the heaviness in his arm stopped him along with the throbbing.

“Son, you’re in the hospital.”

His father was here and so d’Artagnan relaxed. “Dad, what happened?”  The teen did not open his eyes.

“Charles, there was an accident.  I was out of town, Constance came to find me and brought Athos, Aramis and Porthos to you.  I came here as soon as I could.”

The story did not make sense. He did not understand what his dad was telling him. D’Artagnan decided to come out of his fugue state and opened his eyes. 

It was Jean with a hand over d’Artagnan’s uncasted arm.  “Are you with me?”

The young man tried to work up some saliva. “Yeah. I thought. . .” He let is fall away.

“You’re going to be fine. Arm and collar bone are broken and you’re scraped up, but nothing that won’t heal with a little PT and rest.” Jean pushed the button to lift the bed up, then helped with a glass of water. The plastic cup was strange in his hand.  “I’m going to call the nurse to let them know you’re awake.” Treville pressed another button.  “We’ve told them I’m your uncle.”

“Uncle, okay,” d’Artagnan agreed.

He spent another two days in the hospital before they released him. D’Artagnan slept a lot, but when he awoke Jean was there, sometimes one of the members of his team would also pay a visit. Athos had even brought an iPad loaded with movies. Constance brought flowers and said she would cook for him once he got home.

Jean was hovering by the teen as they made it back to the house, deciding the couch was a good place to stay put.

“Don’t you have to go to work? I’m fine. Constance can take me to PT when I start.”  D’Artagnan explained his plan since he didn’t want to be a nuisance.

Treville shook his head. “First, I’ll be taking you to PT. Second, we think that someone is after you. It wasn’t an accident.” Jean relaxed his usual rigid composure. “I said I would help you, and I’ve done a poor job of that.”

D’Artagnan thought about shrugging his shoulders, but knew it would hurt too much. “You’ve been busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“I’m not going to kick you out.” Jean sat down on the couch. “I think we need to figure out a better plan. My own men are scolding me for not doing right by you.”

The teen frowned. “I didn’t say anything-“

“No, it was nothing you did although feeding Athos may have made you a friend for life,” Jean joked.

It warmed d’Artagnan. He felt so alone without his father.

Jean rubbed his chin. “They want to look at your dad’s case.  If that’s okay with you?”

The teen nodded. It was more than he expected. “I think I have some leads.” He had done some more investigating to find some gaps in what the police had put together on the unsolved case.

Treville nodded. “Good. I’ll have them come over. I want to know about school too.”

D’Artagnan swallowed, but there was a lump in his throat that was threatening to choke him. Then he felt wetness on his cheeks and a sob escaped.

Jean moved closer. “Your father was a good man, my friend growing up, and the fact that he told you to come to me if you were ever in trouble means he trusted me with something precious to him.” He reached out and patted the teen’s forearm. “I’m going to try to live up to that expectation.”

The younger man wiped down his face. “Thanks. I’ll try to be a good guest.”

“You’re not a guest. I’d like to think of you as my nephew. I’d be your uncle, not that you’d have to call me uncle or anything.”

At first d’Artagnan did not understand. This was a temporary arrangement until he was older and could be officially on his own. Treville was just supposed to help him find his father’s killer. The teen didn’t feel like he was at home, but he did feel like someday he could belong with an uncle and some friends in Constance, Athos, Aramis and Porthos. “I could do that. Call you uncle. I mean, you’re a cool uncle.”

“I am?”

D’Artagnan was surprised at the surprise. It reminded of him of his dad, his heart clenched for a moment. “You work for a secret organization.” D’Artagnan snorted and pulled himself together. “It makes you cool.”

Treville puffed up in pride and added with a grin, “You’re a cool nephew.”

“I know.” The teen’s side ached and he was tired from more than the pain.

“But not humble. I’m going to order some pizzas. What would you like on it?”

They were going to be learning about each other, and d’Artagnan didn’t realize how much he wanted another person to care about him. “Everything.”

“Even anchovies?” Jean looked doubtful. “Because I like them.”

“Me too.” It was a start to what d’Artagnan hoped was a second chance at family.

 

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I think of more, then I will add, but at this point I have written myself into the unknown without a plan or plot.


End file.
